Young bloods

'Half-past seven!' Arthur could not hide his astonishment. Back in Dangan, everyone would have finished breakfast long ago. 'Do you think they're all ill?'

'William's a heavy sleeper, but the others…?' Richard shrugged.

An elderly maid entered the dining room from a small service door in one corner. She carried a tray to the table and quietly set it down beside Richard. She removed the cover from a plate to reveal some lamb chops still steaming.

'Will there be anything else, sir?'

'No, thank you.'

She looked up. 'Will the other gentleman require anything?'

'Some tea, please. And bread. And do you know what time my parents will be joining us?'

'Tea and bread.Very well, sir. As to the other matter, I ca

'Nine o'clock!' Arthur exclaimed. 'But that's half the morning gone.'

'You might say that, sir.'

'What about A

'They were fed earlier, sir. Their na

She turned and disappeared through the service door. Arthur looked at his brother helplessly. 'She can't be right.'

'We'll see.'

Richard ate his lamb chops and then sat waiting while Arthur chewed at his bread. Shortly before eight o'clock William entered the dining room and was as puzzled as the others at the absence of the rest of the family. Finally, at quarter to nine, the sound of the parents' voices could be heard and a moment later they entered the dining room, still in their nightclothes. Lady Mornington clapped her hands to her cheeks. 'My darlings!'

She rushed round the table to deliver kisses to her sons, and then took her seat with a smile as Lord Mornington assumed his place at the head of the table with a smile.'Good to see you again, boys.'

'We arrived last night,' Richard said curtly.'And you were out.'

'That's right,' his mother answered. 'There was a ball at the DeVries place on Mayfair.We simply couldn't refuse. Please don't take on so. Not when we haven't seen you for so many months.'

'Which is why I thought you might be keen to see us.'

'And I am, I am, Richard dear. But you must understand, it's so important to make the right co

'Yes. And I think Richard might show a little more gratitude for all our efforts to smooth the path to good society for him and his brothers.'

Richard swallowed. 'I am grateful, Father. Truly.'

'There!' A

'I'm looking forward to it, Mother.'

'And please don't speak that way, Richard.'

He looked puzzled. 'What way?'

'With that accent. It really won't do in London society. Makes you sound so… provincial.'

'Provincial?' Richard looked surprised. 'It's how I've always spoken.'

'Precisely,' his father cut in.'And that's why it must change.You don't want society making assumptions about you.That applies to you two as well. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it soon enough. Things are different here, and you must make every effort to fit in unless you want to be cut from everyone's list. I'm sure you wouldn't want that to happen to your mother and me, as a consequence of any mistake that you might make.' Garrett looked at his eldest son fixedly.

'We understand, Father.'

'Good! That's settled. Now we can enjoy ourselves. Oh, I nearly forgot! Arthur, I've found a new school for you. Brown's in Chelsea.Term starts next week. I'm sure you are looking forward to it.'

Arthur smiled weakly.

'Make a nice change from that backwater at Trim.'

'I quite liked Trim,' Arthur replied. 'Once I got used to it. And Dr Buckleby was a fine teacher.'

'Yes, yes, he was. How was he when you left? He must be getting on.'

'He is old, but his mind is sharp.' Arthur looked up brightly. 'He wrote a piece of music for me. I have it upstairs. Would you like me to fetch it?'

'There'll be plenty of time to see his little ditty later, Arthur. Perhaps we can find some time to sit down together and play it through.'

'I'd like that.'

'But not today. I have a head like a blacksmith's and I need to lie down this morning.'

A

'Now, boys, I must get ready for the day. Please feel free to explore your new home. You can play with the others in the nursery when they return. Then, after lunch we can take a carriage to Cortfields and have you three measured up for some proper clothes. Until later.' She turned and waved over her shoulder without looking round.

'Well,' Garrett smiled, 'I need to rest my head. It's good to see you again.'

Once he had left the room the three boys were alone again. Arthur felt that an important bond with his father had been broken and he feared that it would never be restored.

Chapter 19

Brown's in Chelsea was an undistinguished prep school on the fringe of a fashionable area. Arthur was escorted to school early each morning by O'Shea. The headmaster was a bilious ex-army officer, Major Blyth, whose educational philosophy was that a curriculum needed to be limited to the fewest possible skills delivered in the most repetitious ma

By the time he returned from school it was suppertime, and more often than not he ate with his younger siblings while his parents dressed for yet another engagement. When it was not a ball, or a party, it was the theatre, occasionally opera or even a prizefight. His father was still composing and had scheduled a series of free public concerts at venues across the city. However, the busy social scene left Garrett too little time for recital sessions with his son and Arthur was left to practise alone in his room. At first he made a great effort to learn Dr Buckleby's composition, but time passed and his father showed no sign of setting aside a few moments to hear the piece.

Occasionally there was a family outing. Usually it was to one of Garrett's concerts, in order to boost the numbers in the audience and A

In any case, the people of the capital were concerned with events much closer to home that summer of 1780. Lord George Gordon, a fervent opponent of the Church of Rome, had been stirring up the London mob. At a series of public meetings he claimed that there was a conspiracy behind the Catholic Relief Acts that had been passed two years earlier to restore some of their civil rights. Arthur and his father had been walking in Hyde Park one Sunday when they came across a crowd listening to one of Gordon's fiery attacks on the Catholics plotting to seize power in England. Gordon, red-faced and spluttering, punched his fists into the air as he raged against his enemies, and played his audience like a cheap fiddle. Their grumbling assent to his rhetoric soon turned into a seething expression of hatred. It was the first time that Arthur had witnessed the raw emotions of the mob and the experience frightened him.